


Gotham Conspiracy

by ModSoul



Series: Between the Lines [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Convention, Established Relationship, Fear of loss, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, References to Homophobia, References to Sexism, References to racism, gotham is real, references to ableism, working together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModSoul/pseuds/ModSoul
Summary: When Ed had Oswald invite his and Martin's current favourite authoress, they didn't expect their entire world view to shatter as they discover thatBatmanis quite famous figure outside of Gotham.Not to mention the fact that they are portrayed as monstrous caricatures.Or: What if the reason, that Gotham is so different than all other Batman media is because it is actually a bio-pic telling the truth for once?
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Between the Lines [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588390
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. Revelation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [No Smoke Without Fire?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922989) by [LoneSardine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneSardine/pseuds/LoneSardine). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a larger series I still have to write and it will explain in chapter six how the fake Tumblr asks in the other parts of the series came to be.  
> What you need to know:  
> \- Penguin & Riddler started dating after Reunification, by the time this takes place, they have been married for about a decade.  
> \- Every story after this in the series is in chronological order (in the Tumblr ask stories it is determined by the time the Flashback takes place)

_The_ _Iceberg_ _Lounge_ was packed, yet the atmosphere could not be more different to its usual nights. There was no pulsing music filling the air, just a low background hum. The crowd also was by far not the normal sort. Ed could not see any of the high and mighty wanting to preen in _The Penguin’s_ less than humble abode or the thrill-seekers lying in wait to see one of the many infamous people Gotham had to offer. Instead he found regular Gothamites dressed down in casual clothes, quietly chatting away the time until the main event. Ed giddily kneaded his fingers. It had been quite a feat to convince Oswald to let them make the arrangements for tonight. Luckily, his husband could rarely refuse their son and him any wish if they worked together. And they had worked meticulously at this. About a year ago Martin hat discovered a series of novels that he had devoured one after the other. At some point Ed had started reading them as well and was just as hooked. They were entertaining, funny and clever, with a few twists even Ed could not foresee. It had been quite a while since he had enjoyed a piece of fiction that much. Together they had eagerly awaited the release of the newest – and rumor had it, last – book. Because of that they had urged Oswald to allow them to invite the authoress to read in the Lounge and now they could share this exclusive first look here in Gotham. Ed linked his hand with Oswald's, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it, just below his ring.  
“Thank you.”  
Oswald looked up to him, adoration clear in his mismatched eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. “Anything for you, my love.”  
“That’s my line,” Ed protested halfheartedly leaning down to him.  
“What are you going to do about that?” Oswald challenged, licking his lips.  
What else could Ed do but to kiss them? Though nothing more than a peck. People always got too excited about seeing their more domestic side in public. Two knocks on the table drew their attention away from each other and towards their son, who in turn gestured towards the stage. The authoress was ready to begin.

The reading was fantastic, well paced and with different intonations for each character. A glimpse around them showed Ed, the rest of the audience was just as entranced. A smirk on her face the authoress ended the session on a cliffhanger, slowly closing the book. For a moment the room was silent, the last spoken words lingering in the air. Then the first applause started and a few even stood up to join. When everyone had settled down again they began the Q&A session. They went back and forth a few times and Ed was surprised at the things being asked. The questions were not trivial but instead well thought through and precise. About world building, character development, plot lines and representation. It was fascinating and far from anything he had expected from Gotham’s inhabitants. Maybe all his work with the riddles and brain teasers had finally paid off in educating those who did not want to fall victim to his traps. He was utterly delighted and grinning like a fool judging by his husband’s chuckle and the fond pat on his thigh.  
“You’ve probably heard this comparison a thousand times,” the authoress started, during a pause in the questions, “but I’m curious: How many of you found the _Batman_ Easter Eggs?”  
The room fell silent once more. Ed’s brows furrowed. Why would she add references to their cities menace into her books? Sure a few things sounded familiar, but how was that supposed to be about them?  
“What comparison?” Someone asked, the question loud in the quietness of the room.  
“Well, your city is called Gotham, I just thought at least some of you might be interested in Batman-stuff.” She sounded irritated, her eyebrows drawn together.  
“How do you know about the Bat?”, someone else asked.  
Her jaw dropped. “How-? Who doesn’t?” She looked across the room, confusion written all over her face. “I’m really not sure how to answer that.” She paused. “I mean, he’s everywhere. Even cheap clothing stores have the logo on stuff like socks.”  
Just like himself Ed saw a few uncomprehending stares directed at her. He exchanged a quick look with Martin and Oswald, but they seemed just as uncomprehending.  
When still no one reacted, the authoress sat up straight and took a deep breath before asking: “Okay, are you all mocking the outsider because of the conspiracy theory?”  
“What conspiracy?” A different person asked this time.  
Ed scooted to the edge of his seat. A conspiracy theory involving Gotham he had not heard about? That was impossible.  
“The one about there being a real Gotham that is not just a setting in a superhero comic world?”  
Murmurs started up, people looking towards each other for an answer. Excitement had Ed’s leg bouncing. He had no idea where this was going.  
“You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” The authoress put her hand over her mouth, the other drumming on the table. Lowering her hand she lifted both of them to let them drop onto the table with a startling bang. A few people jumped in their seats. She leaned forward, studying the audience. “Come on, you can’t all not know the franchise. There were a ton of movies and cartoons!”  
The new bout of chattered was halted by Oswald stomping his cane on the floor. All eyes were instantly on him. “Please start again,” he ordered.  
“Uhm, where?”  
“How do you know of the Bat?” Oswald's voice was calm, but Ed could see the anger and annoyance simmering below the surface.  
“Uhm, I don’t remember, I was a kid when first learned about him, I guess.” Her confusion had turned into nervousness, as she moved back and forth in her seat.  
Everyone knew that only Oswald was allowed to ask questions in this setting, so they kept quiet. “What movies?”  
“Uhm, the Nolan ones with Christian Bale, or the one with George Clooney or that one with Val Kilmer or whatever he’s called.” She counted on her fingers and seemed to be a little out of her depth in her search for more examples. When she again received no reaction her eyebrows rose up. “Seriously, you’ve never heard of the bat-nipple-suit? That’s basically all I know.”  
So Ed was right, she did not really know what she was talking about. Oswald sensed this as well, he could see that in the furrow of his brow.  
“Oh!”, she exclaimed as if having an epiphany, “There was one with Danny DeVito as some really fat bad guy and Jim Carrey in glitter spandex.” She motioned with her hands to add to her description.  
Beside the unrivaled library the mansion by now also held a vast collection of all sorts of movies, so it was not a surprise for Ed to find Oswald turning to Martin as well, silently asking, if he knew any such movies, but their son only shrugged. Ed greatly enjoyed Carrey’s theatrics, especially _The Mask_ had become one of his favorite movies, but he could not recall, ever seeing him in such a role. All of them also enjoyed _Matilda_ immensely so he could see DeVito in an even more villainous role. Yet, what this meant for their current discussion, he could not say.  
“So, you don’t actually _know_ him,” Oswald stated.  
“He’s a fictional character,” was her reply as if that was explanation enough.  
It was and it was not. Still healing bruises and scars were prove that she was missing an essential fact.  
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Oswald hit the floor with his cane again. More nervous habit than threat. “He’s not.”  
“You are making fun of me.” Folding her arms across her chest she seemed certain of her assessment.  
“I assure you, I am not.” Oswald's tone was calming, but not placating. He wanted her to believe him.  
Her face went through several emotions. Ed could decipher suspicion and curiosity as the primary ones, but also a little fear. Without another word she took her smartphone in hand and apparently searched for something as her next move was to get up. Walking the short distance from the stage to their table in the third row she sent apologetic glances to the people she passed by. In front of them, she held her phone towards them with a strained: “So, you’ve never seen any of this?”  
The screen showed different men in costumes quite similar to the Bat’s, yet more of a caricature of what he wore.  
“No,” Oswald declared the same time Ed said: “Nope.”  
“Okay …” Her gaze went to the pictures on her phone, to them, then around the room as if trying to catch someone stifling a laugh. “And you’re not making fun of me?”  
Ed could partly understand her hesitancy to believe them. He also knew Oswald's patience was about to drain shortly, if this continued much longer.  
“No.” There it was, the clear indicator of it. One syllable as sharp and cold as the dagger hidden in the cane’s handle. “The Bat looks nothing like that.”  
“What does he look like?”  
The question came faster than Ed would have expected. Just as quick as Martin turned his own phone towards her, showing her the pictures the _Gazette_ and other media had posted online.  
“Yeah – that’s – wait, you put in _Batman_ as a search term, right?”  
“Obviously.” Ed felt the need to be affronted. Why would Martin use any other search term?  
“So did I.”  
“What?” Ed exclaimed dumbfounded. “How is that-?” Without finishing the question he took her phone right out of her hand. “You’re not using the Lounge's Wifi.”  
“No, I’m using mobile data,” she clarified even though he could see it in the symbols on the phone.  
“What was that conspiracy you talked about?” Ed took out his own phone, hastily unlocking it.  
“It’s called the _Gotham Conspiracy_ on Wikipedia. Sort of the opposite of the _Bielefeld Conspiracy_ that claims the city of Bielefeld doesn’t exist,” she explained, sounding a little more confident.  
His search led him to the _No results found_ page as he he had partly expected. With a few clicks he had turned her phone into a hot spot and linked his on with it before he repeated the search. And there it was. “Fascinating,” he concluded after swiftly reading the article.  
“Ed?” Oswald leaned against him, so Ed turned the phone for him to be able to read as well.  
“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s the truth,” Ed told the authoress and he probably was a bit too blunt again, but he did not quite care at the moment. “This. Is. Gotham.”  
“What? T-the truth? But those stories are full of mutants and monsters. That can’t be real. How would people not _know_ about that?” There was the fear again, now accompanied by a fresh dose of panic.  
Ed let her try to come to terms with this while he took back his phone to see if they had not just changed the Bats costume, while casually answering her. “The same way, we don’t know that someone is using the Bat for comic book stories and – oh.” His jaw dropped and he hastily put the phone away before Oswald could see. That was something he needed to broach without witnesses. He felt his own anger boiling inside him, his mind already planning bloody torture he would put on the Bat, if this had been his doing. Well maybe if it was not, he could still use it to their advantage. Without warning he stood up on the table and those few eyes that had turned away during the exchange were now on him again. “Listen up!” He let his voice carry throughout the Lounge, fully knowing how loud he needed to be to be heard. “The Bat is censoring our media!” He paused for effect, let a few murmurs run their course before signaling them to be quiet with a gesture of his hand. “We have been deceived, used even. There is a whole franchise out there putting our city into the world of fiction, mocking our citizen and putting that wretched Bat on a pedestal!” Turning slowly on the table he made sure to look a few people in the eyes as he continued, his arm pointed at them. “If you take one thing home with you tonight, let it be that knowledge. Spread the word, tell everyone you meet, how the Bat has censored what we are able to see!” With the final declaration made, he jumped onto the chair and then onto the floor again.  
“What about the autographs?” Someone actually dared to ask. Typically Gotham.  
“I’m sure we can arrange something tomorrow. You will be joining us a little longer, right?” Oswald asked loud enough for everyone to hear, turning his piercing gaze to the authoress.  
“You don’t make it sound like I have choice,” she correctly deduced, her face a few shades paler than before.  
“Oh, you don’t,” Ed agreed, sending a grin towards his husband. “Until I can figure out how to break whatever is blocking all outside sources about this, I need you’re phone.”  
“Okay …” She nervously kneaded her hands, her eyes looking around as if trying to find an exit to this situation.  
That said Oswald snapped his fingers and his bouncers escorted out the people who had not understood his command for what it was.

“What’s going on, Ed? Why did you sent everyone away?” Oswald asked as only the four of them were left, the authoress now quietly sitting at their table.  
As soon as the bartender had left as well Ed had made his way behind the counter to connect the Lounge's laptop with the hot spot. “Give me a second,” he explained as he clicked the remote to lower the white banner they used for the projector. “I didn’t want them to see …,” with those words he allowed the screen to be mirrored, “this.”  
“What is _that_?”, Oswald asked, disgust clear in his voice.  
“Danny DeVito,” the authoress provided as an explanation.  
“As _The Penguin,_ ” Ed added, knowing what would be coming next.  
“W-WHAT?!” Oswald screeched. His hands hit the table just as his chair crashed onto the floor as he stood up in his rage.  
“The other’s are just as bad,” Ed tried to keep his voice calm, but inwardly he wanted to bash a certain someone’s skull in, just as much as his husband did, “and apparently they think you have syndactyly.”  
“I have what now?” Oswald blinked at him in incomprehension.  
“Deformed hands, only three fingers.” Ed demonstrated with one hand, before looking down again and pointing with the mouse. “Oh, look, this one also as sharpened teeth.” A growl from Oswald had him gulp, even knowing he would not be the one on the receiving end of Oswald's anger.  
“Enough of that, let’s see what they think of me …,” he thus diverted, putting his own name in the search bar.  
“Looks like Jim Carrey in glitter spandex was supposed to be you.” Oswald snorted in amusement, sitting down again in the chair Martin had set upright again.  
Ed felt his face heat up from memories and shame alike.  
“I-I only wore that thing _once_ and that’s ALL they think of how to portray me?!” This was outrageous. A knock drew away from his own spiral.  
“They also misspelled your name,” Martin signed to him.  
“He’s going to pay for this,” Oswald declared and Ed could not agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I read [Our Reflection in the TV](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1092003) my mind started wondering what if it was the other way round? What if Gotham is the way it is because they were tired of the wrongful portrayal of their story?  
> And as you can see by the other parts of the series the idea sort of ran away with me ...
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy this take on things.
> 
> Funfact: The [_Bielefeld Conspiracy_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bielefeld_Conspiracy) is a real thing or rather an ongoing joke amongst German's. It claims that the town of Bielefeld doesn't exist.
> 
> Little Funfact: I may or may not have used my own experiences with book readings (attending and reading) for that particular scene.


	2. Research

“Hey, what’s going on? Why’d everyone leave so suddenly?” Victor asked, joining them at the table.  
Until then Oswald had spent his time fuming at the images Ed had found. The laptop now stood with them, the projector turned off again.  
“Because of _that._ ” He first opened then waved towards the picture of that atrocious version of himself.  
One hand on Oswald's shoulder Victor leaned down to look at the screen. “Who’s that?”  
“That is supposed to be me.” Oswald's tone could not become more condescending and disgusted, even if he tried.  
“Nah, doesn’t look like you.” Victor just shrugged his shoulders.  
“That’s the point!” Oswald yelled, slamming his hand onto the table.

After spending what felt like hours on looking at pictures and skimming through descriptions of what seemed to be an endless amount of adaptations of their stories - one more obscure and wrong than the other - Oswald had enough. He was exhausted and angry.  
“Alright,” he declared, startling everyone sitting at the table. “You’ll be leaving Gotham with Victor tomorrow and assist him in buying every one of those movies and comics.”  
“That’s impossible.”  
“We’ll give you the money,” Oswald argued, unimpressed by her refusal.  
“No, I mean, that’s _seventy_ _years_ worth of comic book history we’re talking about! With-with several lines running parallel, rebooting and what not. Not even the best stocked comic book shop in New York or San Diego will have that!” The authoress sounded desperate, kneading her folded hands.  
Then it clicked. “ _Seventy years_?”  
“Yeah, maybe more. It was like one of the first major comic books ever. Beside Superman who’s been around just as long.” She hesitated, then her mouth slowly opened in realization. “Wait … is he real too?”  
“Yes, yes, he is,” Ed confirmed matter-of-factly.  
“Fuck.” She exhaled a shaky breath, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry ... holy shit … that means … aliens are real?” Her voice had become a little squeaky, her eyes widened in horror again. “Okay, I’m starting to see why it might have been easier to tell the people that all of that is just fictional. It’s a far nicer world.” She shook her head, took a deep breath and wondered: “Not ideal, but hell, what else is real?”  
Oswald sighed. It did not seem like they would manage to calm her down again any time soon. “Victor, would you please take her to her hotel?”  
With a simple nod the assassin coaxed the authoress into a standing position. Ed reluctantly returned her phone once he accepted that having her belongings with her would ease her discomfort and help her regain her composure. Of course Oswald did not send them away without a warning and an order. They would be seeing each other again in the morning.  
“What are we going to do now?” Ed asked once they had left.  
“Well, you will start working on cracking whatever is blocking our access to the internet.” Oswald knew his husband far too well to expect anything different.  
“True,” Ed agreed, sharing a conspiratorial smirk with Martin.  
“And I will wait for _him_ to make an appearance.”

It had not even taken a day for the news to reach the Bat. At that point the authoress had already left town, or rather fled it, so at least Oswald did not have to worry about her when his staff informed him he had been spotted lurking near the Lounge. All Oswald had to do now was busy himself with his paperwork until the vigilante decided to enter through the soon conveniently unguarded back entrance. After an unfortunate incident where Oswald had to dispose of his guards for being knocked out on the job, he had commanded them to _accidentally_ step aside whenever the vigilante was on the prowl. This way his club was not unprotected for whatever time they needed to regain consciousness. He also did not have to bother with hiring new employees every couple of weeks.  
“Ah, there you are. I’ve been expecting you,” Oswald greeted the Bat, not even looking up at him, his eyes still on the papers before him, though he did not longer read the words.  
“You made quite a ruckus with your declaration,” came the gruff reply. “A lot of people are trying to hack into the network’s firewalls.”  
Oswald scoffed, putting down his pen. “Of course they are. You’ve been censoring our media, keeping information from us.” Finally he looked up, his eyes narrowed in the menacing look he had perfected over the decades as _King of Gotham_. “Vital information I might add.”  
“Penguin-”  
Oswald held up his hand. “Ooooh, no, you do not get to say a word unless I tell you to.” He chuckled darkly and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “Let me summarize what is going on here: You collected all the data you had on us, gave it to your little speedster friend and had him run into the past to convince a few comic artists to create a fictional world that would make anyone talking about the real Gotham sound like an obsessive fan. Am I right so far?” The others’ squirming alone told Oswald, what he needed to know. “Thought so.” Sitting up and drumming his fingers on the table, he continued: “Then, to cover up what you have done, you had him lay breadcrumbs for the _Court of Owls_ and of course yourself to know what you did and design the internet in a way that all outside knowledge would be blocked, _censored_. Thus creating a self-fulfilling prophecy that would lead you to become who you are in the first place. Everything had to happen how it had otherwise you would have created a paradox.” Oswald was certain that his own smile was smug, while the Bat’s lips were pressed into a thin line. He had the vigilante right where he wanted him. “Which leads us to the events of the last weekend, where all of this came to light.”  
“How have you figured this out?”  
“Please. As if it was hard.” Oswald scoffed, hiding how tired he still was. It had been an exhausting night, but he was grateful for the early morning hours he and Ed had spent on figuring this out after Ed had hit a metaphorical wall in his endeavor to break the block and had retired to their bed to get a new perspective, deploying a technique they had implemented over the years: Oswald would distract him from his task with mundane or critical discussions, preferably while holding each other in their arms, until an answer presented itself. “But let’s not focus on _how_ you did it and more on the _what_ you did.” With this Oswald pushed himself into a standing position, rounding the table so he could properly face the Bat. “Do you have any idea how humiliating and devastating it is to see yourself as a monster, realizing that that is what everyone outside of our beloved city sees you as? Knowing the mockery that will follow once this is made public knowledge?” Even with the mask on, Oswald knew he was looking him straight in the eyes, saw the twitch in his features and the flinch of his body. “ _You_ have made me and the others the laughing stock of the century without even consulting us first! _You_ stripped away our right to claim how we want to be seen!” He could not help himself, his voice rose on its own accord, yelling the words into the Bat’s face before his own contorted into a sneer. “Not to mention that I am apparently a disgusting womanizer and not at all even dating _my_ _husband_.” He spat the last words, anger boiling inside him. Of all the things they did to him, denying his relationship with Ed had been the most abhorrent. Breathing heavily, he took a step backwards, lowering his gaze to collect himself. Looking up again, Oswald continued in a near whisper. “You and you’re little league of legends decided to fool the entire world into believing there is no harm in this world while they actually are in mortal danger with every breath they take. In doing so you have humiliated, _insulted_ , people that have helped and supported you over the years. Fought side by side with you.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “People that have done more for the most vulnerable and the lowest of the low of this city than all those corrupt moneybags resting on occasional charity donations put together.” Oswald made himself look as imposing and imitating as possible. Judging by the way the Bat made a minuscule step backwards with slightly slumped shoulders, it was working. “Not to mention that the misstelling of our stories furthered what outsiders like us have to endure. You gave fodder to the bullies, the misogynists, the homophobes and all those other douche bags. Are you proud of that?” He stepped forward, causing the Bat to this time take a full step back. “Proud of having created wannabes and copycats that harm others?”  
The Bat had the decency to look down. “No. I’m sorry.”  
“Oh, I bet you are! Just wait until the others hear about this,” Oswald threatened gleefully, before continuing with a smirk on his face, basking in the terror he could make out in the Bat’s half-hidden features. “Well, as you were the one to initiate all this, I am sure you have all the resources we need to understand, what _exactly_ everyone thinks of us. So you will deliver all of it - and I mean _everything_ – to the mansion.” The Bat nodded and Oswald stepped away again. He made it look, like he was turning back to his table only to sweep back around to make his final move. “One more thing: Unless you want this to be a very public act instead of a private affair you will release whatever lock you have on the internet, so the information is available to everyone. Are we clear?”  
“Chrystal.”

“Alright, this is it,” Ed declared running his hands through his hair and keeping them at the back of his head.  
Their dinner table and the chairs surrounding it where barely visible underneath the boxes and piles of comics, novels, DVDs and games.  
“Please tell me you won’t spent the next years going through all of that,” Oswald pleaded, looking up at his husband.  
“I-” Ed started, probably thinking to go through with just that.  
“NO!” Oswald interjected. He would not lose Ed at his side for that long, so he made a counter-offer: “We’ll outsource part of it!”  
“To your goons? I don’t think so!” Ed scoffed, folding his arms like a petulant child.  
“I was thinking more in lines of Victor, Ivy and the others who may play a part in all this,” Oswald offered, “In addition to Martin and I of course.”  
“So you propose we divide and conquer?”  
“Indeed.”  
“But that would mean, we need to tell them about it all.”  
Oswald sighed. “They should know either way. And this way we learn how they wronged us from many different perspectives.”  
“Fair point,” Ed conceded. “I’ll make a list and cross-reference to see who is covered in what. Maybe there is stuff we don’t even have to look at because none of us is in there.”  
“Sounds like a plan.”

A couple of days later they had scheduled the meeting in the Iceberg Lounge. Some sat at different tables, including the one Oswald had claimed as his own. They were chatting among themselves or ignoring each other all together. Every now and then someone would ask what this was all about in the first place, but Oswald would just change the topic to something entirely different. When everyone had arrived Oswald stood up, officially greeting them.  
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he opened his speech, but was directly interrupted by several scoffs and snorts.  
“It’s not like you left us much choice,” Selina complained, studying her nails, her feet on the table before her.  
“True, but this is a matter of utmost importance.” Oswald had to agree with her. His phrasing had been rather threatening. Turning towards his husband, he gave Ed the signal.  
In a swift move Ed emptied the box they had stored beneath the table onto it and then spread the different volumes for all to see.  
“What is this?” Selina was the first to ask, sitting up in a swift motion.  
“Well, that would be us. As everyone outside of Gotham sees us,” Oswald declared, “just an example of a few of you that made it onto a cover.”  
“What?”  
“I’m not wearing plants!”  
“How skintight is that outfit?”  
“Is that supposed to be Jeremiah?”  
“The pop-sickle got a cover and I didn’t?”  
“I do not have buck-teeth.”  
“Hmm, they captured me quite well.”  
“There is more where this came from. Books, comics, movies, TV shows, even games. I, we’d like your help to work through this to see how wrongly they portrayed us.” Oswald leaned forward on the table as he spoke. “The plan is to split into groups and take notes that we then compare.” He looked around the people assembled before them, gauging their reactions. He saw disdain, anger and amusement. Rising up again, he asked the most important question: “Are you in?”

They had taken surprising little time to agree that they wanted to tackle this project together. Though, that this would include hosting the most notorious people in Gotham in his mansion was something Oswald did not anticipate. And they did not even plan any heists or murders. They simply wante to read comic books, watch TV or play video games. When Victor had suggested they should end a day of research with a barbecue, Oswald had outsourced the task of planning that part to him. He had no interest in figuring out a menu that included everyone’s dietary restrictions. He knew them of course, but he had other things to do. So this was how he found himself showing each new arrivals to their room and explaining their task and how to fill out the questionnaire Ed had devised for each box and its contents. It was a combination of specific questions regarding each portrayed character and a few general ones. In the evening they would compare their notes over the promised meal.  
With his eye Oswald himself had trouble doing any sort of reading or watching for a longer period of time so he busied himself with checking up on everyone and providing them with food or drinks. In the living room Ed sat on the floor playing a video game, that had him apparently solving his own riddles as _Batman,_ while Martin watched a movie on his tablet and Victor used one of their laptops for a cartoon. Oswald placed two glasses of iced tea on the table in front of the couch the last two lounged on, before bringing the third to his husband. He tapped Ed on the shoulder to get his attention and had only a brief moment to wait for him to look up.  
“Hey,” he greeted with a grin, leaning his head against Oswald’s stomach.  
“Hey, yourself.” Oswald held the glass in front of him.  
Ed needed a moment to recognize what he had been handed, before he took it with a thanks.  
“Don’t move even closer to the screen,” Oswald scolded lightly, stroking Ed’s cheek.  
Ed leaned into the touch for a moment before reaching out with his arm to pull at Oswald's shoulder. He followed the silent plea and placed a gentle kiss on his husband’s lips.

To safely transport the snack bowls, pitchers and glasses to the upper floor Oswald used the service lift. He had no intention of even trying to carry any of it while simultaneously making sure not to miss a step. Putting everything he had prepared onto a serving cart Oswald made his way to the bedrooms that had been set up with a television – and fresh sheets for the occupants to sleep in if necessary. His first stop was the one at the far end of the corridor.  
“How is it going over here?” He asked after opening the door, carefully rolling the cart inside to hand them their ration.  
“That Scarecrow is pathetic.” Crane’s voice was flat, but the disgust was palpable. He had opted to watch one of the movies, his boxes with comics still unopened on his side of the bed.  
Tetch sat beside him, surrounded by comics and a laptop on his folded legs, that he turned around to show Oswald the screen, loudly complaining: “And I do not look like that. This is less body and more hat!”  
“And I do not have syndactyly, we all have to bear our crosses,” Oswald retorted rolling his eyes. From what he had seen, he had gotten the worst deal when it came to altered appearances. With this he left the room continuing to the next one.

“They turned me into a man! Look at this!” Firefly greeted him as soon as he had fully entered, crawling forward on the bed and shoving a comic towards him.  
Stepping forward Oswald asked, scanning the page: “From when is this?”  
“How’s that important?”  
“Well, a villainous woman of color might not have seemed as a good artistic choice at the time,” he argued, putting the pitcher on the dresser beside the door.  
“That’s stupid! This is stupid!” She continued to complain, throwing the comic against the wall on her side of the bed.  
“So that’s why Strange looks white?” Selina wondered flinging the remote control into the air and catching it.  
“And why there is no mention at all of Fish. Yes.”  
“WHAT?!”  
“Screw them!”  
“Yeah, Fish was awesome!”  
“If it’s any consolation: I’m not even dating Ed in any of those stories.”  
“Oh, I get it. They are a bunch of a-holes that don’t want to show kids of color or gay guys that they can accomplish things and be like mob bosses and shit.” Selina crossed her arms, a sneer on her face.  
“May I remind you that me being with Edward doesn’t make me any more gay than you being with Mr. Wayne makes you any less bi.”  
“Yeah, sorry, you know what I mean!” Her cheeks were dusted in a light shade of pink as she averted his gaze.  
“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.”

A little disgruntled, Oswald climbed down the stairs again to check up on Ivy and Harley in the winter garden. When he entered Oswald decided to not disturb their discussion about fake names used as real names and simply leave the cart by the door. Though he did find some of their points quite interesting, especially seeing that _Pamela Isley_ , the name Ivy had created to study botany in peace and _Harleen Quinzel_ , Harley’s birth name before she became Jeremiah’s _Echo_ had made it into the Bats files in the first place. It made him wonder whether his and Ed’s nom de plumes where out there as well. With these thoughts he returned to the living room. From the boxes beside the couch he picked up one of the comics about himself and sat down between Victor and Martin. When he was half-way through it, his son turned from leaning against his shoulder to tightly hugging him.  
“Martin? What’s wrong?” Oswald tried to figure out what had happened, but Martin only clung to him more tightly.  
Ed and Victor paused their respective game and video to see what had upset him as well. Their faces echoing his own concern. Eventually Oswald managed to coax Martin out of their embrace.  
“Please tell me,” he urged, but his son was shaking far too much to properly sign anything.  
Carefully Oswald took his hands, gently kissing the knuckles. Kissing it better like he had done whenever Martin had been upset as a child. Leaning forward Martin placed his forehead against Oswald's, breathing slowly, his eyes closed. When he had calmed down enough to sit back up Oswald squeezed his hands before he let go.  
“They killed you,” he signed, tears still running down his face.  
Oswald placed his hands on his cheeks, wiping them away with his thumbs. “I assure you, you will have me for many more years to come.” With a fond smirk he nodded towards Ed, who had come closer to them. “Ask your ded, I’m more cockroach than penguin.”  
This at least made Martin chuckle, wiping the tears from his face.  
“Hey Nygma!” Selina broke their moment, “the controller for that game won’t work!”  
Ed looked at them, asking if they needed him, placing his hand on Martin’s thigh.  
After exchanging a look with their son Oswald nodded, so Ed got up and kissed Martin on the head before he left.

It took quite a while for Martin to calm down again. Once he did, he took over the laptop to continue watching the cartoon instead and Victor finished the movie for him. It was a good thing, Victor sat on Oswald's right, it made it harder for him to glimpse at the screen or catch something from the earplugs. Like this they continued until Victor turned around to put his legs over the side of the couch and his head on Oswald's thigh.  
“You comfortable?” Oswald asked, moving his comic aside to look down at him.  
“Oh yes,” Victor agreed and snuggled into Oswald's stomach.  
Oswald scoffed, closing the volume to glance at Martin, who still seemed rather shaken.  
“Why don’t you take a break? A round in the garden, some fresh air?” Oswald suggested, stroking his son’s hair.  
Martin sat up and turned around, leaning his side against the couch. “If Edward were still around, I could take him for a walk.”  
“Hmm … maybe we should get another dog,” Oswald suggested his arm slung over the couch, so Martin could lean into his half-embrace. “Or I really should get an aviary.”  
“Did you ever think about getting actual penguins?” Victor asked looking up at them.  
“Ed did, briefly, but it wasn’t feasible to build a home for them within the Lounge.”  
“But maybe we should do what they did here.” With this an open comic book was lowered in front of his face.  
Oswald leaned back to even be able to make out what was shown on the pages. “Ivy?”  
“They, well, we, I guess, build a sanctuary for endangered birds and plants, open for public use with a fee,” she explained, resting her chin on his head.  
“Oh, you could put bees in there for pollution and make honey!” Victor piped up excitedly, sitting up to turn around to them, legs crossed underneath him.  
“Pollination,” Oswald and Ivy corrected unison.  
“Wait, would the honey be toxic if the plants are?”  
“Not necessarily, depends on how I grow them.”  
Finally Ivy let go of him, handing Oswald the comic so he could read the part she referred to. Skimming over it, Oswald decided: “Put it on the to-be-considered list.”

A long day of research and discussions ended in quite the feast that lasted into the early morning hours. Most of his guests had retired into their rooms, but Oswald still stood in the frame of the door leading to the gardens taking in the night air. A bit of smoke still rose from the grills.  
“What are you still doing out here?” Ed drew him out of his musing and put his arms around his middle.  
“Didn’t feel like going to bed. I just can’t get over how Martin reacted to that movie,” Oswald acknowledged, snuggling into the embrace, tightly holding onto his arms.  
“He loves you and he already had to spent ten years apart from you, fearing to not even receive news of you dying in prison.” Ed rested his head on his shoulder, his breathing uneven, obviously affected as well, most likely reliving what had happened between them. “Seeing his worst fear shown like that, probably reminded him how dangerous our lifestyle is.”  
“I know,” Oswald agreed turning slightly to face his husband. He lifted his arm to reach behind Ed’s head, pulling him down into a gentle kiss.  
“God, ten years later and you’re still gross,” the disgusted sneer tore them apart, though neither of them let go. “You’re murderers, how can you be all lovey-dovey?”  
“Selina,” Oswald greeted her dryly, far too used to her mocking. “What lead you to a stroll this late?”  
“Stars. Don’t see much of them in the city,” she most certainly deflected.  
Oswald shared a look with Ed who understood.  
“Don’t be too long,” he urged before another peck to Oswald's lips.  
“What truly troubles you?” Oswald asked as soon as Ed was out of earshot, giving her the privacy she needed to tell him the truth.  
“Nothing.” She stepped from one foot to the other underneath the scrutiny of Oswald’s raised eyebrow. “Okay!” She finally exclaimed throwing her arms into the air in defeat. “All of those versions of me apparently get their powers or whatever from dying and being resurrected by cats,” she elaborated after pacing some more. “I’ve been there. I was in a coma after being pushed off a building and _Ivy_ got me out of it. I couldn’t freaking walk after Jeremiah shot me and _Ivy_ had some crazy power plant that made me, well, this.” She waved at herself and then sighed. “And they say nothing about that. They just say it’s _cats_!”  
“Martin watched the other movie where this is your narrative. In it mine is being hated by my parents, creepily flirting with you and dying to be dragged into the sewers by my penguin army,” Oswald revealed to her what they had agreed to leave out in their earlier recollection.  
“That’s why he was rattled all evening.” Selina crossed her arms and lowered her head, still not able to stand still.  
“Yeah.” Oswald nodded solemnly. “So I guess, we should not take these things too seriously. They are highly exaggerated and far from what we know is the truth.”  
“Suppose you’re right.”  
“Go get some rest.” A part of Oswald wanted to physically comfort her, but he knew too well that she would not accept it. At least not from him. “We still have a lot to go through.”  
“God, don’t remind me. It’s like homework.”

Closing the door of their bedroom behind himself, Oswald let out a sigh.  
“There you are,” Ed greeted him, standing up from beneath the covers.  
Soon he enclosed Oswald in a hug. Clinging onto him Oswald let out another deep sigh. It felt good to just stand still for a moment, letting the troubles of the day fall from him. When they parted Ed pecked him on the lips, their arms still around each other.  
“I’ve been thinking,” Ed started, drumming his fingers against Oswald's sides.  
“Whenever are you not?” Oswald teased pulling him close again.  
“Rude.” Ed squinted his eyes, but accepted the comment for the joke it was. Then his demeanor changed completely. He crossed his arms behind Oswald's back, placing a gentle kiss on his jaw and whispered into his ear: “I was thinking, that I would very much like to remind you how gorgeous and desirable you are.”  
“Do you now?” Oswald chuckled, stroking his hands down Ed’s back, resting them just shy of his backside.  
“If you’re amenable.” As always Ed gave him an out.  
Oswald felt that this would be good for both of them. He did feel rather like an abomination at the moment and Ed’s kisses and touches always made him feel better about himself. “Hmm … think that could be arranged.”

Oswald opened his eyes, instinctively he turned onto his back and sat up. Something had awoken him, but he could not say what. Looking around in the dark room, he saw Ed slowly stirring as well. Just when he thought to just settle down again, he heard something. A grunting and yapping, that was all too familiar, even years later.  
“Martin.” Once Oswald had managed to free himself of the blanket, he searched the floor for his underwear. Hurriedly trying to pick it up he lost his balance, his knees hitting the floor. He swallowed the yelp, his own pain did not matter right now, his son needed him. He heard Ed get up as well, his question of concern sounded far away. His focus was on getting back on his feet, he had no mind to answer. Managing it Oswald sat down to dress before throwing a robe over himself and hobbling to the room across the hall.  
Oswald fell heavily onto the bed, his hands grabbing onto his still shaking son before he had even reached the mattress. Martin woke with what would be a startled yelp, but was only a trembling exhale. Soon after he found himself with his son in his arms. Martin clung to him, as he had done after watching that dreadful movie. The memories apparently causing him a restless sleep. Oswald ran his hands up and down Martin’s back soothingly, assuring him that he was truly there.  
“What’s going on?” Oswald heard from outside of the room.  
“Martin had a nightmare,” Ed explained in a solemn tone, probably itching to come inside as well.  
“Interesting. Someone his age still fearing the loss of a parent,” Scarecrow’s raspy voice concluded, a hint of curiosity in it.  
“We can hear you!”, Oswald yelled to the side as not to harm Martin’s ear, breaking their embrace.  
The chattering fell silent, until a knock on the door broke it.  
Oswald looked around to find Harley slowly opening the door and stepping inside after asking silently for permission. She came to stand behind Oswald, entirely focusing on Martin and offered in a calm tone: “Hey, do you want to talk about it?”  
In moments like this Oswald was grateful that they had a proper psychiatrist on their side, one that understood the intricacies of the cities working just as the strange characters living within it.  
“Maybe,” Martin answered with shaky hands.  
“Do you want your dad to stay?”  
“Papa,” Martin corrected, sharing a smile with Oswald.  
“Okay,” Harley acknowledged, but still waited for Martin’s decision.  
Martin shook his head no and added in Oswald's direction: “Go get some rest.”  
“I love you.” Oswald embraced Martin once more, feeling his son’s hand returning the sentiment with his hands pressing into his back. After a kiss to the forehead he left them alone.  
When he shut the door behind himself to give them privacy Oswald was greeted with a rather startled exclaim.  
“God, are you naked underneath that?!”  
“Excuse me?” Oswald tried to make sense of it, looking first at Selina and then at himself. His robe had opened up a bit because of the hug, so he pulled it closer to cover his bare chest and tightened the knot around his waist.  
“What? I don’t want that thing to open even more and your old man dangly bits falling out.” She folded her arms pointedly looking anywhere but him.  
Oswald blinked uncomprehending, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “How about you mind your own business and go back to bed?!” With this he left them alone, storming into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut, sitting down on the bed with a huff. His face probably as red as a tomato.  
“He’s definitely naked,” Victor supplied.  
Oswald could not just hear him clearly as he stood just beside the door, he could also imagine the mischievous smirk on his lips. Oh he would make him pay for feeding this flame.  
“Nope, wearing underwear,” Ed disagreed and even through the door Oswald could make out the joy in his tone. At least his husband had a sense to defend his honor. “But I am.” Or not. Oswald looked up, just as Ed opened the door, closing it with a jovial: “Good night.” Knowing his husband, he had probably swirled around before his theatrical exit. They barely had any time to exchange looks before Scarecrow concluded dryly: “You do realize that means they had sex?”.  
Ed barely contained the snicker and Oswald too had troubles being mad anymore.  
“Ugh! How am I supposed to get that picture out of my head?” Selina yelled, her usually silent footsteps now echoing in the old halls.  
The other’s followed and finally they were left alone.  
“Was that really necessary?” Oswald asked, annoyance clear in his voice.  
“Sorry, couldn't resist,” Ed sheepishly admitted, shuffling his feet.  
Oswald scoffed, but then the events caught up to him again. He covered his face with his hands. “Why is he taking it so badly?”  
Ed sat down beside him, laying an arm across Oswald's shoulders, his other finding it’s way around his stomach.  
“He’s been orphaned most of his childhood, then he found us, then Blackgate happened, you know.” He leaned his head against Oswald's and sighed. “I’m not going to watch that horrid movie either.” Ed squeezed him tightly. “Can’t bear the thought of watching you die. Again.”

When all media had been scoured and the notes compared they gave themselves a few days to just let the information sink. Maybe a few new plans would hatch out of it. On a lazy morning Oswald wanted to share one of his ideas with his husband. Slowly he stroked his fingers trough Ed’s hair. “I’ve been thinking.”  
“Right, you do that sometimes,” Ed jested, hiding his smile against Oswald's chest, arms squeezing him a little.  
“Hilarious.”  
Rising up Ed placed an apologetic kiss on his cheek. “Please continue.”  
Oswald smiled at him, his hand running up and down his husband’s arm.  
“If no one is telling our true story, maybe we should do so ourselves.”  
“You mean, writing our memoirs?” At this Ed sat up on his elbow, curiosity piqued.  
“For example. We’ve certainly lived long enough to have something to say at least.” Oswald chuckled, not that he had expected to even live this long.  
“Very true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this turned a bit longer than expected and I'm not sure my transition always work out, but I'll let you decide if something is still a bit wonky here. Somehow, they all had something to say, so I've already pushed a few things into the next chapter and divided this one into two ... so, uhm, oops? :D  
> I briefly considered also writing the barbecue scene, but I don't think it would have added much more to the plot other than people complaining about differences I myself know far too little about. So, feel free to let me know if you'd want it as a bonus chapter.
> 
> A few of the things mentioned here, like the nom the plumes, will be covered in separate fics.  
> Find out more about the Penguins [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684355).


End file.
